


Counting Stars

by Nygma42, Oswald_Nygmobblepot



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Pon Farr (sort of), Sex Things Happen, Slow Burn, Starfleet Academy, Teacher/Student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nygma42/pseuds/Nygma42, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oswald_Nygmobblepot/pseuds/Oswald_Nygmobblepot
Summary: Takes place during Spock's first year teaching at the academy. Nyota is in his first class, though things perhaps don't go as smoothly as they'd like.





	1. Promotions and Upgrades

Spock looked around the large room, very different from the room he’d shared with a human classmate for the last two years. His things had been brought up, in two grey containers that he’d insisted on packing himself, with the exception of the brief moment Captain Pike had come to his room to chat and had insisted on helping Spock pack his clothing. He was grateful that Christopher had come to understand him over the past two years. Most humans had no respect for Vulcan’s culture and their need for privacy, and that it is disrespectful to touch certain things, such as his lyre. His roommate that had been assigned to him, did not have such respect and had ruined his original within the first week. 

_ ‘Well, I only touched it.’ _ As if that meant he’d done any less damage. Humans did not understand that leaving a fingerprint on such a personal item would leave a mark even by a simple touch, and Spock could do nothing but dwell on the tiny spot on the instrument, even after it had been washed away until he had disposed of it entirely. He remembered a similar situation that had happened when he was just a child, and he’d touched his father’s. His father hadn’t spoken to him for nearly a week after disposing of the instrument, and now Spock understood why a tiny spot was such a big deal. Especially since it could so easily be cleaned off. It was a tiny mark, but a tiny mark of disrespect. One that could not be repaired or washed away. 

Spock was grateful for his promotion in that respect. He had this suite to himself. There was no fear of human interference, and could now control the temperature of his own room. His previous roommate had always preferred the room cool, as he’d come from up north and was accustomed to colder temperatures. But Spock was from a desert planet and was accustomed to much hotter climates. 

He went around the room, quietly unpacking his things, which hadn’t taken him long. He wasn’t one for frivolous items and liked to keep his rooms plain, which had been a constant complaint from his roommate, who preferred to keep his clothing on the floor, posters on the walls, and his desk and shelves cluttered with action figures and toys of all sorts. Both men could not have been more opposites than they had been. 

Once he was finished, he picked up his PADD to see if he’d received any messages from Captain Pike, but before he could get to it, there was a chime from the suites main computer. 

‘Incoming video transmission from Vulcan. Amanda Grayson.’ The computer said mechanically. Spock stood up from his bed and went over to the computer. 

“Answer audio and visual transmission,” Spock said in response as he sat down and the computer turned on to an image of Spock’s mother. “Good morning, Mother.” He said, despite the darkness outside, he knew it was early morning in  Shi'Kahr. 

“And to you, son,” she said, smiling slightly. “How are you settling in? Are you glad to finally have your own space?” She had heard plenty of his frustration about the lack of privacy with his old roommate.

“The room is satisfactory.” He said. “A little bigger than what I would consider necessary for one person, but I have no complaints.” He could see his father in the background, moving into the hall towards their bedroom. It didn’t surprise him that he did not stop to speak. “How have your classes been?” 

“They’re going wonderfully this year,” she said, clearly pleased. “The children’s reading levels have been progressing more quickly than usual. I have several who are advanced already, and a few of the parents have been more willing to work with me, given the positive results.” Though of course, the other early childhood teachers chalked it up to her being randomly assigned naturally gifted students. They would never acknowledge that the human could be as competent an educator as they were. “When do you start in your new position?” she asked. Sometimes, it took a little more questioning to find out how her son was really doing.

“My first class starts tomorrow. I’ve completed my syllabus for this year, and have already done my lesson plans for the next month.” He said confidently. “I have some maintenance tests to run on the Kobayashi Maru tomorrow morning, and then classes start directly after. I believe it will be a rather successful year.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Amanda said, a hint of pride in her tone. “It sounds as if you are very prepared.” She wouldn’t have expected anything less from her son. He had always worked twice as hard as the other Vulcan children to prove himself, and he had conducted himself no differently at Starfleet. “Just remember to remain adaptable as well.” She was certain that Spock would eventually work out his own balance between planning and flexibility, as every teacher had to. For Spock, rigor wouldn’t be the problem. There were some things, though, that teaching theory couldn’t cover, and the only experience in the classroom could impart. She believed that this would be an excellent experience for Spock.

“If I may ask mother, can you clarify your statement?” He asked, confused by what she meant by remaining adaptable. 

“Of course,” Amanda said, long since accustomed to her son’s seriousness. “Planning is naturally an important part of teaching.” 

Back on Earth, she had learned the same adage that many teachers in training heard: ‘Failure to plan is planning to fail.’ It had always proven true.

“That part will not be a problem for you. I’m sure your lesson plans are as detailed and as rigorous as any supervisor could wish. But people have many different ways of learning, and it’s not always efficient. Different situations may arise in the classroom depending on your students. For example, a particularly advanced student may raise a pertinent question, which could lead to discussing the subject matter more in-depth than you had planned if the class is ready for it. Or, as a less desirable example, you may look over the assignments you have collected and determine that a point you thought you’d made clear still hasn’t been mastered by the majority of students, who perhaps failed to seek further guidance since they thought they understood. In that case, you may have to assign further reading or practice on a topic that you had thought could be covered quickly. In either case, the approach you had planned would have to adapt to meet the needs of your students.”

“With respect, Mother. I am not teaching children. I am teaching an advanced linguistics class. I'm sure the students will do exemplary.” Spock said as if he were absolutely certain. 

“Perhaps you are right,” Amanda said, though there was a mild hint of amusement in her eyes. There were some things that a new teacher could only learn from the classroom, despite the best of advice. “And I’m sure you will hold them to the highest standards.”

“Of course.” He said as if she expected anything less. “I will, as always, do my best.” 

“I have absolute faith in that,” Amanda said honestly. “I’ve always been proud of your dedication to everything you decide to do.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He said lifting his hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. “ Dif tor heh smusma* .” He said quietly, knowing their com was running out of time. 

Amanda mirrored the gesture, looking back at her son. “ Sochya eh dif** ,” she responded, wishing her son all the best in those few words.


	2. Failing to Meet Expectations

Every roommate Nyota had ever had accused her of being an insufferable morning person. This was patently untrue. She had no natural affinity for mornings. They interfered with the valuable luxury of sleep. And anyone who bothered trying to talk to her during the first shambling 15 minutes or so she was awake would quickly find that there was no coherent thought happening besides the zombie-like pursuit of caffeine. Though of course, no one made the attempt. That would require being awake. 

Regardless, Nyota had long since learned that she was just more productive and alert if she gave herself a little extra time in the morning to mentally prepare for the day, preferably while getting in a decent early-morning workout to get the blood pumping. The benefit to inflicting early mornings on herself was that the running track was usually unoccupied, and she could always count on getting to the shower before Gaila could use up all the hot water. And if nothing else, mornings at least tended to be quiet.

So by the time she was walking briskly to her seven a.m. class, the one everyone else was grumbling and complaining about, she was focused and ready to take on the day. 

Lieutenant Spock walked briskly down the hall and entered the class, placing his PADD down on his desk as everyone settled into their places. 

“T'nar pak sorat y'rani.” Spock said looking out over the class, none of which responded. “Tell me, with a show of hands, how many of you did not understand what I just said.” He looked out over the small crowd of students and saw four people raise their hands. “Come stand up here please.” The four of them looked at each other confused before they moved to the front of the class as indicated. 

“Who can tell me what I just said?” Spock asked the class. 

After a brief hesitation, Nyota raised her hand, looking up at the instructor from her desk as she waited to be called on. She’d heard, of course, of Starfleet’s first ever Vulcan recruit. But she was a little surprised at how young he looked. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her. No doubt he had completed his training at an advanced speed.

“Cadet Uhura.” Spock said, looking towards her, his brown eyes meeting hers. 

A brief glimpse of surprise flickered across Nyota’s face that he knew her name already. He hadn’t stopped to make introductions and call the roll. She supposed it was possible, though, that he had preemptively viewed the profile of every student on the roster and memorized which names accompanied which identification photos … But who had ever heard of an instructor taking the time to do that? Admittedly, she supposed it was logical.

“It’s a formal greeting, sir,” she said clearly, not breaking eye contact. “But unless I am mistaken, there’s no direct translation into English.”

“You are not mistaken, Cadet.” He said looking out at the others. “I am pleased to hear that someone has paid attention in their Entrance Vuhlkansu I class.” Spock said, hearing someone mutter ‘Is pleased an emotion?’ but he chose to ignore it. “Show of hands, how many of you expect to get less than eighty-three percent in my class?” He asked. 

A handful of students hesitantly raised their hands, but a good few of the others traded nervous glances and murmurs, or actively avoided Spock’s eyes. In the front row, Nyota didn’t so much as move.

“You five that have raised your hands, please join your classmates at the front.” He said and waited for them to join them. “My last question, before class will start, how many of you don't actually want to be here?” 

Two people nervously raised their hands and Spock motioned them towards the front. Spock turned toward them for a moment. “The eleven of you are dismissed.” He said before turning towards the rest of the class. “Now for the remainder-” 

“Wait, what do you mean dismissed?” One of the students asked. 

“I mean you are not welcome here in my classroom. You may re-enroll once you are prepared for this class.” He said evenly. 

“You can't do that!” Another said angrily. 

“I believe I just did,” Spock said. “If you have any issues you may take it up with Admiral Franklin.” He said, and to be honest, the man was more than welcome to … If he could get an audience with him. 

Nyota raised an eyebrow slightly at the unfolding dispute, while a few others grumbled nervously in the back. It was too soon to tell whether he would be any good as a teacher, but he certainly seemed to know what kind of classroom he wanted and was unlikely to waste time. He certainly wouldn’t gain any popularity that way, and she wasn’t sure whether he really could do that … If so, she imagined a few of the other instructors would be happy to do so. But it was admittedly a very … Vulcan approach.

“You haven't heard the last of this, Vulcan.” One of them spat as if Spock’s species were an insult. 

“Surely not, Mr. McTaggart.” He said before turning back to his remaining students. “It is my understanding that the previous instructor had an expectation of 75% or higher to pass. This will change this year, and each year going forward. You will be tested and graded fairly if you put the effort into your work, I have no doubts each of you will pass. A pass in my classroom will be 87%.” He said to a sudden outcry from the class. He stood silently until they'd willingly settled down. “Now, I am familiar with the teaching methods of your other instructors, so I will lay out my expectations as they are quite different. I will not give out extra credit, your highest score will be 100%, nor will I give out extra assignments. I do not accept assignments even a second late. And I will not accept incomplete work.” He said. “My office will be open between three and four PM every evening if any of you would like assistance. Are there any questions?” 

87 percent? Nyota had never heard of such a thing. And why 87 specifically? Why not 85, or 90 for that matter? It seemed oddly specific. She was confident enough that she would be fine; she’d never averaged lower than a 90 in a language based course in her life, and only in her most stressful semester had she dropped below a 95 … But the rest of the class was likely to mutiny before he could get to the syllabus. This was turning out to be educational on Vulcan culture in ways she hadn’t expected.

Nyota raised her hand. “Do you recommend any additional sources for further reading, beyond the regulation textbook?” she asked.

“Seriously, Uhura?” she heard someone scoff behind her but ignored it. The instructor had just raised the stakes. She wasn’t about to sit back and fall behind now.

“Such a kiss ass.” Someone muttered. “She'll be buying him a coffee tomorrow, just watch.” 

“Do Vulcans even drink coffee?” 

She ignored that too. From experience, she knew that the exact same lot who were making fun of her now would come pleading for her to help them study around finals time. She was also roughly 87% sure that the instructor could hear them.

“All the information you will require will be in folder 2 on your PADD. All assignments will be submitted in your folder inside folder 3.” He said. “At the end of this class, you will provide me with an 8 character password that will be yours for the remainder of the term. I will not change these for the remainder of your time here, please do not forget your passwords or provide them to anyone else.” 

Nyota nodded, already navigating to folder 2 on her PADD. She couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed; she hadn’t asked what was required, but if he had any recommendations for further research. Maybe he thought she was getting ahead of herself. Still, the resources he’d provided were pretty extensive already.

“On the board, you will find seven Vulcan phrases, I want you all to translate them within the next twenty minutes. You may use-” 

“Those phrases are above our skill level.” One of the students said. 

“Please do not interrupt me, Miss. Halloway.” He said as he paced slowly in front of the class. “As I was saying, you may use anything on your PADD to assist you. I expect you to work in silence. If I catch you looking at someone else's work, you will be done for the day and receive a 0.” He said moving towards his desk. “You may begin.” 

Uhura quickly opened a notes document on her PADD, jotting down the phrases on the board with sufficient working space between them, making a note of any words she already understood and jotting down their possible translations before swiping her notes document to a wide margin and referring to folder two for references, focusing first on a direct literal translation of the individual words, before reordering the resulting phrases into more practical, grammatically appropriate translations. Once she had a reasonably satisfactory translation of each, she started looking into possible nuances in meaning and context, keeping an eye on the time in the upper right corner of her PADD as she worked. At this point, it was safest to assume that Spock’s assertion that he wouldn't accept assignments even a second late was completely literal, and applied to in-class assignments as well as major assignments.

“I'm assuming, by the few of you who are staring at the ceiling, that you have completed your assignments?” He asked, looking down at his PADD to see they had thirty seconds left. He didn't call out the time as other instructors would, he had given them their time limit. 

Determining that she had completed the assignment as thoroughly as she could within the time limit, she glanced over her work one more time, her final product divided into neat rows labeled: Original Vulcan, Direct Translation, Practical Translation, and Possible Variations. Satisfied, she hit send, the screen verifying that her assignment had successfully uploaded. 

As soon as the timer hit 0, Spock said nothing as he tapped the timer, effectively freezing everyone's PADD’s rendering them unusable, to a few people's complaints. 

“You didn't give us time to hand it in!” One complained. 

“I gave you 20 minutes to hand it in.” He said looking on his own PADD to find that only ten of the twenty-seven students had handed it in on time. He flicked through the assignments, discarding five that had not completed, rushing to get it in on time, before discarding another two, for using a translation system on the PADD. 

“May I inform you, Mr. Sagart, that if you are going to use a basic translating program, you should probably read your answers before submitting them. Unless it was your intention to insult me.” He said shaking his head. Of the following three he graded them quickly, one reaching 87% the minimum expectation, one at 92% and … Cadet Uhura who stood at 95%. 

Nyota smiled slightly as her grade popped up on her PADD screen, settling back into her seat. She would need to familiarize herself more with the resources provided so that she could more efficiently do a thorough job in the future. But for a timed assignment on the first day, it wasn't bad. 

The rest of the class went similarly. Spock spent some time going over the information before he assigned an essay to be completed by the next class. 

“I can't believe this,” Sagart said walking down the hall. “The first day and he's pulling this shit? It's a joke. It has to be.” 

“I wouldn't bet on it,” Nyota said, passing him in the hallway. “Vulcans aren't known for their sense of humor.”

“No kidding, it isn't funny.” He said as Spock came out into the hall. 

“Lieutenant Spock.” Spock paused in the hall, looking up to see Admiral Franklin and Captain Pike standing in the doorway. “Can you follow me, please.” 

Nyota looked up in surprise when she saw the two superior officers approaching Spock right after class. “Unbelievable,” she murmured. “They actually took it up with the Admiral.” Either that, or it was an incredible coincidence. 

“Of course,” Spock said nodding his head slightly in agreement, before walking after them towards the admiral's office, a few of the kids that had been kicked out of Spock’s class snickering as he passed. He paid them no mind as he made his way through the building and into the Admiral’s office. 

“Have a seat, Commander.” The admiral said. Spock looked to Chris who said nothing before he moved to sit down in the chair indicated. “Can you please explain to me, why I had four angry students in my office this morning.”

“Was it only four?” Spock asked. “I believe there was at least nine that expressed displeasure in my decision.” 

Chris looked as if he was right on the edge of an exasperated sigh. “And what decision, exactly, was that?” They had both heard the students’ complaints, but it was possible that they were exaggerating. Knowing Spock, however, it was also entirely possible that they were understating the matter.

“I had eleven students enrolled that did not meet the expectations required to be in my class. Therefore I have dismissed them, and informed them that they may re-enroll when they are more prepared.” Spock said, the admiral looking quite annoyed. 

“You can’t do that Lieutenant.” The Admiral said. “They are entitled to take their class.” 

“According to Starfleet regulation 2548 section 4, all students must meet the requirements to enroll in all Starfleet courses. Mine is no exception. The previous teacher may have accepted less than exemplary work, but I will not.” He said, his back straight as always, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have already taken Captain Pike’s advice and lowered my expectations to accommodate that the majority of my students are human, had this been a Vulcan class, my expectation would have been a 95% to pass, and no less. The students I dismissed this morning, I’m afraid do not meet my expectations, and therefore do not meet the requirements to be in my class.” 

“This isn’t Vulcan,” the Admiral said, frustrated. “You can’t just dismiss a fifth of your class on the first day!”

“Still,” Chris said before Spock could dig himself in any deeper. “It wouldn’t hurt to raise the bar a little. And Mr. Spock’s not wrong about the regulation … Though I have to ask,” he said, with a slight hint of an amused smile. “How exactly did eleven students fail to meet your requirements within the first ten minutes of class?”

“Four of them did not understand what I said which would have been learned in Entry Vuhlkansu I. Five of them did not believe they would get higher than 83% in my class. And two did not want to be there. My assumption, those are the two that did not complain.” 

“That doesn’t sound entirely unreasonable,” Chris said, the amusement never quite leaving. “At least four of them have proven themselves unqualified, and I don’t see much point in complaining about the two who aren’t interested in complaining for themselves.”

“That’s one thing,” the Admiral argued. “But you’ve dropped the other five just on expectation, instead of challenging them to set more rigorous goals for themselves! They haven’t actually failed anything yet, or even been tested to see if they will. If every student who initially thought they couldn’t do something turned out to be right, half the Starfleet officers I know wouldn’t be here.”

“Every Starfleet officer is responsible for themselves, and their crewmates. If a Starfleet officer does not have confidence in their own ability, it will not only bring down themselves but the ones around them as well which can lead to catastrophic errors. Surely you must know this Admiral.” He said. “I have not barred these students from my class, they are more than welcome to re-enroll next term. If at that time they find they have the determination to learn, as my current students have, then I will be more than willing to teach them. But I will not teach someone who does not have the will to learn, or the will to set their expectations to something at the very least to the minimum passing grade. If you plan to fail, I see no point in pursuing the course further, it would be a waste of their time, and mine.” 

“Be that as it may,” the Admiral said sternly. “You cannot simply remove students from your class based on expectation alone.”

“In the future, maybe,” Chris mediated. “But a change at this point would undermine Mr. Spock’s authority in the classroom, which the students are already beginning to contend. Not upholding the instructor’s established expectations would send a bad message to the students.”

“That hardly resolves the problem,” the Admiral sighed, shaking his head. “In the future, Mr. Spock, you will consult Captain Pike before removing any students from your class. Is that clear?”

Spock was silent for a moment before he nodded. “Of course, Admiral.” He said. 

“Good,” the Admiral said curtly. “You are dismissed.”


	3. The Vulcan Museum

The following week had gone decently, though he found a few of the students were trailing behind, and he had noticed a rather large increase in students coming to his office at the end of the day, some lasting longer than others. When the class bell rang at the end of his Advanced Phonology II class at the end of the day, he placed his PADD down on the desk, dismissed everyone, but remained at his desk. 

“Cadet Uhura, if you’ll join me please.” He said, causing a few of the girls near Uhura to start giggling and whispering. 

Nyota ignored them, though lately even Gaila had evidently heard the comments that had been circulating around. It was irritating, but the classroom was no place to dignify that kind of immature chatter with a response. She nodded, gathering up her things as she went over to Mr. Spock’s desk. “Yes, sir?” she inquired.

Once the class was emptied, Spock finally addressed her. “I have been recently looking into getting an assistant for my Phonology classes. I have a few candidates, though I must admit, despite your age, your work exceeds expectations.” He said looking up at her. “I’ve chosen you to be my new assistant if you’ll accept the offer.” 

That had to be the closest thing to a compliment that she had ever witnessed Lieutenant Spock give. Though, given that he was almost as young as she was, the comment about her age seemed ironically amusing. Still, it was exactly the kind of experience that she wanted. “When do I start?” she asked.

“You’ll start tomorrow during my regular office hours. I'm looking for someone to assist me with the students struggling to keep up. As well as possibly your assistance during a personal project of mine.” Spock said. From any other instructor that may have come across as suspicious, but from Spock, it was just that. A personal project. 

“I’ve seen the line outside your office door,” Nyota said, mildly amused. This might have less to do with her accomplishments and more to do with Spock being swarmed with complaining students. “But what’s this personal project?” She doubted there was any double entendre there. She couldn’t imagine Lieutenant Spock illogically endangering his career. More likely, Spock was working on something potentially prestigious that, if she got to help, would gain her even more unexpected work experience.

“I will make arrangements for you to join me Friday night. If you are available that is. It will be outside my regular office hours.” 

Ordinarily, that arrangement might set off a few alarm bells, and Nyota supposed she should still be cautious. But Lieutenant Spock was a walking personification of professionalism. “I’m free Friday evening,” she confirmed. Her only classes on Fridays were early in the day, and she’d had nothing social planned this Friday either.

“Good. I shall meet you by the front gate of sector C.” He said. “I would advise wearing a pair of jeans, or some form of pants, instead of your regulation uniform.” 

Nyota looked mildly skeptical at that but nodded. “I’ll dress accordingly.” She couldn’t help being curious about what exactly Lieutenant Spock was working on. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

Spock simply nodded before turning back to his PADD to mark the assignments he got in today. 

 

\--- 

 

That Friday evening, not long before their agreed meeting time, Nyota was waiting at the front gate by sector C, wearing close-fitting jeans, black boots, and a long-sleeved black top, her hair back in a sleek back ponytail.

Right on the nose of their designated time, Spock pulled up in front of her on a hoverbike, wearing a Vulcan style black jacket with a high collar, and tight-fitting black pants and boots. “Cadet.” He said once the bike stopped in front of her. 

“Commander,” Nyota returned the greeting with a nod. She’d never seen him out of uniform before. The neat but slightly more casual look seemed to suit him. “Nice bike,” she said, looking over it curiously. “Was this made on Vulcan?”

“It was, yes. My mother brought it for me when she came to Earth over the summer.” Spock said wondering why he'd divulged that much information. Perhaps a growing habit from the week she'd spent as his assistant. 

Nyota looked up from examining the hoverbike. This was the first time she'd ever heard Lieutenant Spock mention his family. If his mother had come all that way to see him, it sounded as if they were close. “That's pretty far from home to visit. What did she think of Earth?”

“She has been here before,” Spock said vaguely. “We must go, we don't want to be late.” 

“Of course,” Nyota said, as Lieutenant Spock drew back into professional distance. She had enjoyed working with him over the past week; he was straight to the point and didn't waste time. But Lieutenant Spock was still something of a mystery to her. She often felt as if something about him lay just beyond her understanding. “Do you want me to get on the bike?” she checked for clarification. To anyone else, it might look unprofessional, but Lieutenant Spock probably just saw it as the most efficient and logical way to get them both from point A to point B. 

“I see no other option unless you were planning on walking. Though it would be a bit of a hike.” Spock said. Coming from anyone else it may have been seen as a joke but from Spock, it was just a statement of fact. 

“True,” Nyota said with dry amusement. She climbed onto the bike behind him, glad he had advised her beforehand to wear pants. Her heart quickened with an involuntary rush of nervousness at the unprecedented physical closeness between them. But there was no reason for it, she reminded herself. It was just transportation, nothing more. 

The ride was smooth, and took nearly half an hour to reach their destination, pulling up in front of a very large building with large windows at its front entry. Spock waited until Cadet Uhura got off the bike before dismounting it himself. He stretched his legs briefly before heading towards the building. 

Nyota followed him in, looking up at the building curiously. She still didn't know anything about this mysterious project of his. She quickly realized that building was a museum … a Vulcan museum, to be precise. Her interest grew. She knew that there was far more to comprehending a culture than just understanding the language, and aside from Lieutenant Spock, she’d had no direct interaction with Vulcan culture at all. “Why haven't I heard of this place?” she asked. It was only half an hour from the base and would have made a great resource. “Are we going to be working on one of the exhibits?”

“In a way,” Spock said as they entered the building. As soon as they'd entered another Vulcan, much more severe looking than Spock, approached them. Both men held up their hands in the traditional salute. 

“ _ Lieutenant Spock.”  _ The man said in Vulcan, lowering his hand, as did Spock. 

“ _ Sodek _ ,” Spock said. “ _ This is Cadet Uhura, she'll be assisting you for the evening.” _ Both men spoke in High Vuhlkansu. The Vulcan looked at Uhura before turning back to Spock. 

“ _ I was under the assumption you would be assisting me in translating the manuscripts. _ ” He said. “ _ I wasn't aware it would be a human.”  _

_ “I have other business to attend to … Cadet Uhura will be more than capable in assisting you.” _ Spock explained. 

“ _ In a language as advanced as this … and with a human so young, it would be illogical to assign her to a task she cannot accomplish unless you are attempting to set her up to fail.”  _

_ “That is not my intention … Cadet Uhura is more than capable.”  _ Spock said, easily seeing the insult in Sodek’s words despite his outward calm. 

_ “She cannot even understand what we are saying … She's looking at us peculiarly … Perhaps for her sake-”  _

“ _ Thank you for your concern,”  _ Nyota said in smooth High Vuhlkansu, her tone respectful and straightforward as she made direct eye contact with Sodek. “ _ But I have had no difficulty understanding this conversation thus far. If you would deem it more logical, perhaps Lieutenant Spock would be willing to look over my work from this evening and determine whether it is satisfactory.” _

Sodek tilted his head, almost as if it were somewhere between curiosity and the Vulcan equivalent of surprise. He glanced at Spock. “Very well, Khaf Brel.” Sodek said in English, the last words he said lost on Uhura. 

She made a mental note of the unfamiliar phrase, resolving to look it up later or, barring that, ask Lieutenant Spock. She relaxed slightly, glad of the opportunity to prove herself. She didn't want to miss out on this opportunity, nor did she want to reflect badly upon her instructor in front of another Vulcan. “Thank you,” she said, appreciating that Sodek was taking something of a risk by allowing her to assist him. 

“I will leave you to it then,” Spock said before heading towards a set of stairs. The Vulcan regarded her for a moment before he started walking towards another room. 

_ “Follow me.” _ He said simply. 

Nyota did as she was told, looking around curiously as she followed Sodek into the next room. He seemed even harder to read than Lieutenant Spock was, and even though he had agreed to this, she still couldn’t be sure if he resented her being here.

_ “We received these three manuscripts this morning, imported from Vulcan. They were found in the Osana Caverns, accidentally as it were.” _ He said leading her to a display case where the three manuscripts were held protectively.  _ “I’ve translated it into Klingon, Romulan and Andorian, and parts of it in English but I don’t have a strong enough grasp of the English language to translate the entire thing. This is why I had requested Spock’s assistance since he is fluent in the language.” _

_ “Fortunately, I too am fluent in English,”  _ Nyota said dryly, though she doubted Sodek would pick up on the humor. English was so prevalent on Earth that outsiders often didn’t realize just how many languages Earth had. “ _ How soon would you like the complete translation?” _

_ “Preferably, as soon as possible.” _ He said, unsure if Spock or herself would find the time to come again.  _ “Please go directly off of the original, since going off of something already translated could entirely change its context.”  _ He said as if he were explaining it to a child. Or at least the Vulcan equivalent of an adult talking to a child.  _ “You may put the information into this PADD. I trust you did not bring your own?”  _ Sodek said more than asked.  _ “None of this information is to leave this building.”  _ He said in a tone that clearly displayed distrust. 

“ _ I do have my own,”  _ Nyota said evenly, more irritated at the insinuation that she hadn’t come prepared than that she might not be trustworthy. The latter, she could excuse. This was lost Vulcan history that he was putting into her hands, and as of yet, Sodek had no logical reason to trust her. But Nyota had never appreciated being talked down to. “ _ If you would prefer, I can hand mine over to you while I am working here so that you can rest assured that the information in these manuscripts will remain secure.” _

Sodek held his hand out for her PADD and waited for her to hand it over before he went over to another display to continue his own work on another exhibit. It was nearly four hours later, nearing eight thirty PM when Spock came back downstairs and entered the large-sized display room. 

“Cadet.” He said. “I will likely be working much later than anticipated. If you would like I can take you back to the academy and return to finish my work.” He said though he was unsure if she had finished or not. By the looks of it, she wasn’t. 

Nyota looked up from her work and shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, Lieutenant,” she said. “But I could use more time to finish this as well.” These manuscripts were a fascinating treasure trove of insight into Vulcan history and culture, and anyway, it was Friday. It wasn’t as if she had class in the morning.

“I am glad to hear that. Though it is getting late. Perhaps you’d join me for dinner?” He asked earning a glance from Sodek. 

Nyota was about to politely refuse when it abruptly occurred to her that she was hungry. She glanced down at the time. When had she last eaten, anyway? “That’s probably a good idea,” she admitted. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten absorbed in her work and forgot to eat. But this project was too important to risk making sloppy errors due to low energy. “As long as we’re back soon.”

“Promptly.” He said gesturing towards the door, ignoring Sodek watching them as they left. “There is a little diner across the street if you would like to go there.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Nyota agreed, accompanying him out, her confident stride belying her discomfort at feeling Sodek’s eyes on her back as they walked out. Lieutenant Spock’s suggestion seemed practical enough to her, but apparently, Vulcans were not all in agreement about what should be perceived as proper.

Spock lead her across the street to the little diner and picked a quiet seat in the corner. Within seconds a waitress came by and asked if they wanted drinks. Spock simply asked for water. 

“Coffee, please,” Nyota said, looking over the menu. Not for the first time, she wondered whether caffeine even affected Vulcans. 

“Would you like time to decide on your meal?” She asked. Spock looked up at Uhura, allowing her to decide since he always got the same thing when he came here. 

Nyota shook her head. “I’ll be ready by the time you're done ordering,” she said, quickly narrowing down the selection. 

“You're usual then, Lieutenant?” She asked. Spock nodded slightly and handed her the menu. 

“Please.” He said simply. 

Nyota ordered a turkey sandwich combo that looked good and handed the menu over to the waitress. “You're at the museum often, I take it?” she asked Lieutenant Spock. 

“I have been here on occasion. Also, the waitress is a cadet. She sits not far from me during meals on the occasions she's there for dinner.” Spock explained. 

“I thought she looked a little familiar,” Nyota said. A lot of cadets worked jobs like this while they were at the Academy, though most worked a little closer to base if they could. “So, what have you been working on in the other room, if you don’t mind my asking?” It must be very important since he’d delegated translating the long-lost Vulcan manuscripts to her.

“I am upgrading their computer software,” Spock said. “I would suggest for the remainder of the night to save your work frequently, as there may be some interruptions later in the evening. I will try to give you a warning beforehand, but on occasion they are unexpected.” 

“Thank you for the heads up,” Nyota said. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this project so far, I’d be furious if I had to start over at this point.”

“Fury would be illogical, but I can see your point.” He said. “I will do my best to inform you beforehand.” He said as the waitress came back with their food. Spock’s plate consisted of vegetables that appeared to be from Vulcan. 

“No more than any other human emotion, I’m sure,” Nyota said, mildly amused as she picked up her sandwich. She looked over at Lieutenant Spock’s Vulcan vegetable medley. “That looks very healthy,” she said. Which, she supposed, was inherently logical.

“It is … Though the sauce they put on it here is not Vulcan and changes the texture quite a bit.” He said. “And probably negates the healthiness of the meal if it were made the proper way.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” Nyota said. A lot of foods didn’t seem to translate well from one planet to the next, which tended to result in disappointment for off-worlders a long way from home. Or whatever the Vulcan equivalent of disappointment was, anyway. “So, what would be the proper way?”

“Simply not adding the sauce. The vegetables are well enough on their own for a Vulcan … I suppose they add the sauce so that it would become appealing to humans as well since they are their target consumers.” 

“Probably,” Nyota agreed. “Let the customers think they’re trying something different without actually leaving their comfort zone.” Though admittedly, the original Vulcan version sounded a little bland. But then, in none of her readings so far had she found much Vulcan discussion of food, not in terms of flavour anyway. She guessed a strictly logical approach to food would be based more on nutrition than in taste.

“By a business standpoint, it is a logical choice. Perhaps next time I shall ask for it without the sauce.” He said, wondering why he hadn't thought of that until now. 

“That, too, sounds logical,” Nyota agreed with a subtle smile before returning her attention to her sandwich for a few bites and taking a welcome sip of coffee, her mind musing from subject to subject. She looked back up at him, frowning slightly and asked, “What was it Sodek called you? ‘Khaf Brel?’ I haven't encountered that phrase before.”

“Sodek and I attended the same learning facility when we were children. He had always derived pleasure in insulting me.” Spock said simply, as calmly as he would discuss the weather. 

“Oh,” Nyota said, feeling awful as the implication sank in. “I’m sorry, I didn't… That seems illogical of him, though, since you’re helping him.”

“Not entirely. His logic is sound, from his own perspective, and many of my species.” Spock said though he didn't elaborate. 

“I see,” Nyota said, though there was a tightness in her expression that betrayed her anger. No doubt there was a cultural context that she didn't understand, but she didn't understand how it was logically in Sodek’s interest to insult someone who was going out of his way to help him. “And it is also logical for you to continue helping him regardless?”

“It would be illogical to allow something as simple as an insult sway me from doing my job. You imply I am helping Sodek when I am merely doing my job and assisting the facility in itself by upgrading its systems.” 

“And logically, he knows that you will continue to do work that benefits him, which gives him no logical need to stop?” She shook her head. Maybe she should distance herself from this. Lieutenant Spock clearly wasn't as bothered by it as she was, and she could be out of line, arguing what actions should be appropriate in his own culture. But Lieutenant Spock had very quickly established himself in her mind as someone worthy of respect, and it bothered her that his own species could deny him that. “Forgive me, Commander. I'm probably being presumptuous.”

“I am afraid you do not understand the entire situation,” Spock said. “And I would request for you not to pry.”

“You're right,” Nyota admitted, still feeling inexplicably angry about it. But Lieutenant Spock clearly didn't want to dwell on it. “I don't understand. I apologize for bringing it up.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and Spock couldn't help but feel as if the air had become tense. Once they had paid for their meals and were on the way back to the museum, Spock broke the silence. 

“Your silence suggests I have offended you in some way. If I have … That was not my intention.” He said glancing towards her. 

Nyota shook her head, looking up at him. “You haven't,” she assured him. “And I was probably out of line by going on about it like that, when it's not my business. It’s just … I highly respect you, and it bothers me when you don't get that same respect from others. So if anyone's offended me, it's Sodek.”

Spock looked at her curiously. “Humans are very peculiar. The perceived offense was not against yourself, yet you feel offended when I do not.” 

The intent curiosity in his eyes gave her the impression that he was trying to figure her out too, just as she’d been trying to do with him. “When you put it that way, it does sound illogical,” Nyota admitted. “But even if you’re not personally bothered by it, that hardly excuses the action on his part. And I’ve never been overly fond of people who needlessly put others down.”

“I have found that humans are quite illogical.” He said as they reached the museum.

“That’s true enough,” Nyota said, smiling slightly. It was somehow comforting to know that humans could be as puzzling to Spock as Vulcans were to her. “But we have our reasons sometimes, from our own perspective.” 


	4. The Dormmate

It was well past midnight when Lieutenant Spock dropped Nyota off back at base, and she made her way back to her dorm. She doubted there was any need to worry about waking Gaila up. She was usually still up this hour on a Friday night. She might even still be out somewhere. Of course, it was also possible that Gaila had brought someone back. The light was still on as she let herself in.

“Nyota!” Gaila said sitting up on her bed fully nude, something Nyota had long since gotten used to. “So … How was your date with the sexy Vulcan?” She asked. 

Nyota resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but just barely. “He’s my instructor, Gaila, remember?” She said, setting her PADD in the charging station on her desk. “If you want sordid, steamy details, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere. I did translate some recently discovered Vulcan manuscripts, though, if you’d like to hear about that.”

“Oh please,” Gaila said rolling her eyes. “Like you were out until after midnight with a sexy man like that, and you did nothing. Besides …. We both know I’ve fucked instructors before. If you like, I can give you some pointers so you don't get caught.” 

Nyota groaned. “Can you not?” she said. “What you do with your instructors is your business that I definitely don’t need to know any more about. But you should have seen these manuscripts, though. They’d been hidden in a cave for ages, but they were fantastically well preserved. With Vulcan’s climate, it’s frankly a miracle.”

“Nyota …” Gaila said shaking her head as she flopped onto her back. “You're so boring you know that …” She said looking over at her. “You and Lieutenant Spock would make a perfect couple. If one day you could both get the sticks out of your asses, maybe you could have a cute little Vulcan baby.” 

“One,” Nyota said, going to change out of her clothes for bed. “This assistantship is too good an opportunity for me to mess it up for being unprofessional. Two, I’m pretty sure Vulcans can’t actually remove the stick. I don’t think they know how to function without it. And three, the cute Vulcan baby is out of the question. I’m pretty sure the blood composition would be incompatible.”

“I don't know … I know they had at least one successful cases of a Human Vulcan hybrid, after hundreds of failures. Or at least rumored to have succeeded but that was a long time ago. I'm not sure what happened to it.” 

“Really?” Nyota said, interested. “Where did you hear that?”

“My parents were talking about it. It was like three years before we were even born so by the time we came around it wasn't as big of news anymore …” She said with a nonchalant shrug. 

“I’ll have to research that,” Nyota said interestedly. No doubt the medical advancements alone required to make it happen would have been groundbreaking. To say nothing of the cultural implications of being a part of both worlds … Assuming, of course, that it wasn't all just a rumour. Assuming that the infant in question had even lived to adulthood. There was no telling what other medical complications such a child would have, even after a successful birth. 

Gaila sighed. “Of course you would.” She said shaking her head. “So seriously … You and the Vulcan didn't …” 

“No!” Nyota insisted, flopping down onto her own bed. “For the last time, we didn’t. And we’re not going to. I don’t know why that disappoints you so much. You’ve got your own sex life; it’s not like you need to live vicariously through mine.” Or, what Gaila would more likely call it, Nyota’s lack thereof.

“Because I've always been curious what sex with a Vulcan is like and they hate the smell of Orions.” She said with a pout. “I can see it being very mechanical, or very rough and kinky. I don't see there being an in between.” 

“Gaila!” Nyota reprimanded, trying to convey her disapproval while blushing profusely and trying very, very hard not to laugh. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for just five minutes? I refuse to be dragged down with you.” But Gaila’s little theory had conjured a few images into Nyota’s mind that she couldn’t quite make go away.

“I know you Nyota … You're thinking about it now.” Gaila said with a grin. “Think his ears are sensitive? I've always wanted to go up to him and start rubbing them, but I might get expelled.” Gaila said before a curious look came over her. “Vulcans can't get mad, how do you think he'd react?” 

“Pervert!” Nyota said, flinging a pillow across the room at her. “And you would most definitely be expelled. Maybe Vulcans don’t get angry, not as we know it anyway, but they definitely value their privacy. I expect he would be very calm and professional about having you removed from his presence forever.”

“Can you even be expelled from school for touching a teacher's ears?” 

“I don’t know,” Nyota said, frowning. “But you’re welcome to test that. Let me know how it goes.”

Gaila threw her pillow at Nyota, hitting her in the face. “Goodnight Nyota.” 

“Goodnight,” Nyota smirked from under the pillow, glad to have it back without having to get up. She shoved the pillow off of her face and rolled over onto it, pulling out her hair-tie to relieve her usual tight ponytail, and pulled the covers over her, more or less satisfied that she had won that exchange. Gaila didn’t need to know that the images she’d invoked didn’t dissipate when Nyota closed her eyes, and that one or two of those ideas just might have followed her into her dreams.


	5. The Illplanned Joke

Spock stood in front of Christopher's office, the door locked, the man not responding, giving Spock the obvious conclusion that he was not there. 

“Computer, locate Captain Pike.” He waited a few seconds for the computer panel to scan its system for Chris’ last sign in. 

“Captain Pike is located at the fourth-floor pool.” Spock didn't hesitate in heading up to the fourth floor, down the long hall and paused in front of a door. He scanned his pass card on the panel and made his way through the men's room, earning a few strange looks from the men changing inside before he made his way into the pool area, still in his grey uniform. He saw Pike sitting at the end of the pool, his feet in the water, in his Starfleet issued swim trunks, and headed over.

“Captain Pike … May I have a word?” He asked. 

Chris looked up at him, a little amused to see Spock standing there with his perfect posture and grey uniform, looking utterly out of place. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well,” he said.

Completing another lap up and down the Olympic-sized pool, Nyota paused to catch her breath, and looked up, surprised to see Lieutenant Spock talking to Captain Pike at the far end of the pool. She was not, however, surprised to see him in full uniform and remaining two feet back from the edge. 

Chris stood up from the pool and spoke quietly with Spock. Chris looked concerned a moment before he headed towards the change rooms. Spock remained a moment, glancing towards Nyota on the other end of the pool before he took a step forward to follow Pike. Before Spock could even take a step he felt two strong hands pushing against his back, and he was unable to stop himself pitching forward. 

Spock fell straight forward, the water freezing as he splashed into the pool. He struggled for a moment, trying to turn himself to grab the edge of the pool but he was too far away. He looked up to see Mr. McTaggart looking down at him, as Spock slowly sank to the bottom unable to swim back up. His vision already blurring. 

“Captain Pike!” Nyota shouted at the top of her lungs, seeing Spock fall in. She started swimming furiously toward him at full speed, but Spock was at the other end of the pool and sinking fast. Even if she reached him in time, she knew there was no way she'd be able to pull him up on her own. 

Chris turned to see Spock had fallen into the deep end, and ran back to the pool, shoving McTaggart out of the way as he jumped in. “Help me pull him up,” he shouted to a nearby cadet who was already close by in the water, before diving down to get to Spock. Chris managed to reach him first, but the Vulcan was too heavy, and he wasn't able to accomplish much until the other man got to him, and they started hauling him back up, struggling against Spock's weight as they swam back to the surface. Even once they broke the surface, it was difficult to tread water as they kept their hold on him, and they dragged him back to the side, only to find that Spock was unresponsive and unable to grab the edge.

Nyota was a competitively fast swimmer, but they already had Spock safely to the edge by the time she reached them. “Is he alright?” she demanded, climbing up out of the pool and reaching down to give him a hand, while McTaggart just stood there gawking. 

With Uhura’s help, they managed to get him out of the water and onto solid ground. “He's not breathing,” Pike said. Had he been down there that long? It didn't feel like it. One of the other cadets was already at a control panel calling for medical as Christopher started CPR on Spock to the best of his ability. As far as he knew Vulcan’s lungs were still relatively in the same place as a human's … Still, with their differences, he had no idea if this was even doing anything. 

“I … I'm sorry. It was just a joke …” McTaggart said looking down at Spock. He didn't think he'd plummet like a rock … He thought he'd just swim to the edge, be his cold Vulcan self and request him not to do it again, maybe make a report he'd get a slap on the wrist for … 

Nyota turned around furiously and, before she even knew what she was going to do, punched McTaggart hard in the face, sending him reeling. “That,” she said, her knuckles stinging, seething with anger and fear as she managed to hold herself back from punching him again. “Is because you’re a moron! If you can’t do something useful, then shut the hell up and stay out of the way.” She turned away from him, watching anxiously as Pike kept trying to revive Spock, every second before medical arrived stretching out into eternity.

Not long after, two people from medical came in just as Spock started coughing. Despite the fact that Spock was now breathing and conscious, the two people came towards him, running diagnostics scanners over him. 

“Is he okay?” Nyota asked anxiously, trying not to linger too close, making herself give the medical techs space to work. 

“I am alright,” Spock said as the medical tech shook his head. Vulcan’s were always stubborn. 

“He seems to be fine, though we should take you to medical, just to be certain.” He said. Spock shook his head and paused his head still buzzing. 

“I am alright.” He repeated again, moving to sit up. 

“Spock,” Pike said, unconvinced. “Let them take you to medical. That’s an order.” He then turned to McTaggart. “My office,” he told the cadet. “Now.” 

“Yes, Sir.” He said obediently heading towards Pike’s office as Pike went to change into his uniform. 

“Lieutenant Spock,” Nyota said uncertainly. “Is there any business you would like me to take care of while you’re in medical?” She’d feel better if she accompanied him, but doubted she could do anything useful there. And as far as she could tell, Spock was always busy. Even a brief visit to medical might inconveniently throw off his schedule.

“I won’t be long.” He said standing up, his head already clearing. “The offer is appreciated.” 

Nyota nodded, feeling awkward and a little ineffectual. But there really was no accepted way to communicate severe worry to a Vulcan. “Please let me know if you need anything,” she said, before heading to the women's changing room. She resolved to check on him shortly, regardless of his assurance that he was fine. 

“I will.” He said nodding before he followed the medical technicians to the medical wing. 


End file.
